


Sex Pollen? What Sex Pollen?

by Basmathgirl



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Sex Pollen, Sexual Content, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 03:32:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basmathgirl/pseuds/Basmathgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and Donna meet up with a cliché at a celebration banquet. How can they ever cope?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sex Pollen? What Sex Pollen?

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** A D/D sex pollen fic challenge offered by with **sykira** and **heintz57**  
>  **Warning:** Have you read the title? This has pollen, and sex.  
>  **Disclaimer:** I was challenged to this…okay, I challenged someone else to this; but it is a challenge and not a money-making opportunity!  
>  **A/N:** You might notice a strong reference to Hitchhikers’ Guide to the Galaxy somewhere in here.

“Well… when I say it has this orange sheen, I mean the way it waxes across the planetary system… the iridescence is spectacular!” the Doctor enthused, waving his hand about in demonstration for his audience of shrub-kind at the banqueting table.

Sitting three people further down the table, Donna forced herself to switch attention onto Zaphod Beeblebrox, or whatever his real name was, and away from the Doctor as he entertained Dalphine Dumour. “What was that about the jam?” she distractedly asked Zaphod. One of his heads was looking at her straight in the eye; the other was focused somewhere below her neckline for some reason. Okay, she knew what the reason was… or should that be reasons plural rather than singular? She had stupidly assumed these shrub-people wouldn’t be interested in the finer qualities of her cleavage. Unless Zaphod was the exception to the rule?

He adjusted the cutlery in front of her, and indicated to one of the waiters at the banquet to step forward with a jar of purple gloop. “I was saying, my gracious Donna, that I think you should try this delicacy we produce in the Nimphon region. I lived near there as a ruskling, and its taste is famous among our people.”

She gazed back at his expectant expression with concern; since his other expression looked positively manic. “All right, I’ll give it a go, but don’t expect me to like it.” She gave her stomach a consoling pat. “This old tummy doesn’t take kindly to some foods.”

“I assure you, my gracious Donna, that you shall enjoy the experience _very_ much!” Zaphod insisted, pushing the jar across the tablecloth towards her.

She resisted the urge to shove it right back at him. Instead she asked, as conversationally as she could, “That Dalphine Dumour woman over there… what exactly does she do around here? Is she a governmental minister or a leading celebrity?”

Zaphod chuckled, and laughed out loud, at the same time. “Your gracious Donna, do you not know? She is our leading nightescort,” he replied.

“Your what?” she asked, clearly puzzled. “An escort for the night…? Oh my goodness! You’re saying she’s a prossie!” Donna tried to hold in her shock, she really did, but it wasn’t everywhere in the universe that held the sex industry in such a high opinion.

Both heads wore puzzled expressions this time. “I do not know what a prossie is; but a nightescort provides sexual favours,” Zaphod clarified.

“That’s what I said,” Donna told him smugly, before realising she was supposed to be charming him. They were there for diplomatic reasons after all, trying to manipulate a trade pact for these Russian-vine people. Who the heck had decided the Doctor was the ideal candidate as a diplomat? Whoever made terrorist bombs in this part of the galaxy, no doubt. Or the TARDIS…. She wouldn’t have done that, would she…? Donna wrestled her thoughts back onto the finer dealings of Dalphine Dumour, and her shrubbery act. “I mean… really?! Is she good at it? On second thoughts, don’t tell me because I’m not sure I want to know.”

He merely smiled with a twinkle in his eye, on one head; the other head had closed its eyes happily as it recalled memories. “Your husband will be most appreciative of her talents,” he stated.

“You what?!” she almost shrieked, and then caught herself. She vainly tried to cover up her faux pas by coughing, and then thumping her chest. “Got a frog in my throat; totally caught me out,” she lied.

“I am sorry, I assumed the Doctor had finished with you since you are obviously spawning,” Zaphod apologised; though he didn’t sound very sorry to her ears.

When her brain caught up with her ears she wanted to slap him into next week! “Did you just say what I thought you said? Do you think I’m up the duff? Well, of all the cheek! Women are _supposed_ to be this shape, Sunshine! They’re not naturally stick insects!” she raged at him.

Zaphod had no idea what she was going on about or how he had caused offence. “I would not know, my gracious Donna,” he countered lamely; and hastily dragged over a large glass of alcohol and sipped from it.

Was the Doctor aware of what that woman-thing was around here? Did he realise that he had pulled without even trying? Did he even _want_ to pull? And come to that, did she want to know if he wanted to pull that evening… Eugh! Perhaps she should warn him, in the interests of their friendship? That’s what friends did after all; stop you making a complete prick of yourself.

With that thought she easily excused herself and got up to sneak over to the Doctor and pretend she had some question about protocol on this planet; it usually worked.

Donna hadn’t got far from him when the Dalphine thing wrapped three appendages around him and got him to stand up. Some words were whispered into his ear that caused him to frown and look worried, and then he was led away in the opposite direction.

That went well, Donna thought sulkily. It would serve him right if he caught woodworm off Dalphine; or Dutch elm disease! “Please come and sit with me again,” a soft voice requested to her side. She turned to see Zaphod bobbing up and down by her side, looking obsequious.

She eyed him disparagingly, and then decided she’d had enough. “No thanks! I’ve got to go and see a man about a dog,” she told him hoping he’d buy her lie about needing the toilet, and immediately trailed after the Doctor, diving behind a large thick curtain.

There was a door behind there, begging to be used; so Donna found herself in a long narrow corridor, with several small rooms leading off it. As she got near the end of the corridor, and was seriously considering giving up her search, a door opened and Dalphine Dumour sidled out backwards, talking to someone within the room. “I will not be a moment, dear Doctor, and then we shall continue our diplomatic conversation,” she told him, and swept away down the corridor.

That’s strange! There was no answering comment from the Doctor, Donna noted, so she cautiously crept up to the abandoned door from where she’d hid and tentatively opened the door. To say she was shocked to find the Doctor tied to the bed was an understatement! “Doctor!” she called to him in a loud whisper. “What have you gotten yourself into this time?” Thank goodness he hadn’t been stripped; yet.

Whatever his reply was it was awfully mumbled. It was at that point Donna realised he was also gagged. She rushed to pull the offending object out of his mouth and then began to tackle the ties on his wrists. As soon as he could he blurted out, “Donna, you need to get out of here!”

She scowled at him. “Are you seriously telling me you want to be left here?” she asked, her fingers hovering above his fastenings. “I didn’t think you’d want to be left with that walking fembot.”

“I don’t! But Donna… the flowers!” he garbled out.

She turned her head to consider the vase of whatever they were beside the bed. “What about them? They smell like cats have been in here.” She wrinkled her nose up in disgust as their dank aroma hit her, and waved her hand about in front of her nose. “Ew! Don’t ever buy those things! They are rank!”

“Help me!” he cried as he bent to fumble with the ties at his feet. “Those things are going to blow!”

“Blow?!” she wondered, and they were instantly hit by a cloud of pollen from the ugly flowers. “It’s a bloody triffid!” she spluttered. “I’ll kill the bugger!” With that she knocked the vase to the floor and stomped all over the offending flowers as vengeance.

The newly-freed Doctor grasped her around the waist to stop her tirade and trashing. “Donna, I think you’ve well and truly killed them. We’d better get out of here before Madame Whiplash gets back here,” he ordered her.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stick around and wait for her to finish with you?” Donna teased him.

“Certain,” he replied firmly. “Come on!” He grabbed hold of her hand and dragged her out of the room, down the corridor, and out into the night air.

A few minutes later they crashed into the TARDIS, breathing heavily. “Phew! That was close. And I thought Zaphod Beeblebrox had acted bizarrely. Anyway… I’m off to have a shower, and get rid of all this in my hair. I’ll meet you in the kitchen for tea. Is that alright?” she asked him breezily.

“Yeah,” he answered distractedly, and sniffed at his hand before heading for his own shower. There was something about those flowers he ought to remember but something was fogging his brain. He stepped under the shower just in time because his skin had started to itch, and the warm water eased away the irritation once he began to sudsy himself up. With the water came greater clarity of mind; thank goodness for that! In fact he was extremely pleased until a fresh wave of irritation swept over him. He tried pressing his body against the cold tiles but it had no effect. “Donna!” he groaned in realisation of the danger she was in.

Donna was happily applying a soapy sponge to her arms before rinsing off her shampoo, humming a little tune. She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to ease out some knots, and suddenly stumbled. What the heck was that? Then a wave of dizziness overcame her, sending her almost spiralling to the floor. Hastily, she turned the shower off and tied the nearest towel around her body. “Doctor!” she called out feebly. “Doctor, I need help! Something is wrong!”

The TARDIS flashed the image of Donna collapsed on her bathroom floor into the Doctor’s head. He had only just stepped out of the shower himself and found something was affecting his vision, making the lights too bright. As fast as he could he felt his way along the hallway to Donna’s bedroom and to where Donna was lying. “Donna?!” He hesitantly stuck his head into her room.

“Doctor, I’m in here,” he heard Donna call out through the open bathroom door. Cautiously he made his way in, and entered to hear her declare, “Oh thank God! I was beginning to think I’d die in here.”

“Aren’t you worried…,” he began to ask, and stuttered to a halt. His eyes went wide as Donna threw her arms around his neck, pressing soft skin against his.

“What am I supposed to be worried about?” she queried from next to his neck, wafting her warm breath across his ear, causing a pleasurable shudder.

“I…” He gave a squawk and thrust her body away from him, slamming himself against the opposite wall. “Don’t come near me,” he warned her. “This could get very complicated.”

Donna frowned at him, clearly puzzled and hurt by his behaviour. “What the hell is the matter with you? All I’ve done is ask for your bloody help, not your hand in marriage! Your virtue is totally safe considering the way I feel at the moment,” she griped at him.

“No! No, Donna; you don’t understand,” he spluttered. “Can’t you feel it?”

“Feel what, you idiot! I can hardly feel my legs at the moment, and my head feels dizzy. Is that what you are on about?” she demanded.

The Doctor slowly gulped. He wasn’t experiencing any of that. Instead his skin was reacting to every piece of sensual stimulus in ways that were beyond his control. Touching Donna had… well, to use an old cliché beloved in romantic novels… set his skin on fire. He desperately craved the soft caress of her skin against his. Against a specific part of his skin if he was honest; and he really didn’t want to be honest at that moment. “So you’re not getting any itchiness or anything?” he vaguely asked, adjusting his towel around his waist.

“No,” she answered, slumping further in her bathtub as her grip on the sides of it gave way, and let out a shocked shriek. “Do you think you could get me out of here?! It’s not exactly a dignified way to die.”

“You’re not dying, Donna,” he retorted before his mind could control his mouth. “Merely under the influence of something.”

“I’d guessed that bit!” she snapped back. “Pity it wasn’t alcohol, as I’d be quite merry as well as legless.”

The Doctor couldn’t help diverting his attention onto her legs at that precise moment and keeping it there. “They _are_ very fine legs,” he heard himself comment.

“These old things?” she contemplated, attempting to lift one leg up in emphasis. “Nah! Totally the wrong shape.”

“Wrong shape for what? You normally manage to walk around and run with those legs; and they go right up to your armpits,” he told her.

“Pfft!” she huffed in disagreement. “My large bum gets in the way of them doing that! And that’s before the likelihood of a boob attack affecting my running.”

The Doctor swept his gaze over her bottom, as best he could in the circumstances, since his eyes wanted to linger for a bit, and up to her boobs, that chastely peeped out over the top of her bath towel. He found himself calculating their exact size as he took into account the firmness of the cotton, the curvature of the swell of her breasts, the way her breasts changed with every intake of breath; and generally made the most of ogling her… breasts! His hands actually ached to feel how her breasts would feel if he were to cup them and assess their weight. He could make quite a good guessimate based on the information before him, if he could drag his attention away from wondering what it would be like to nuzzle up against those breasts or even taste them… Okay, time to stop thinking about breasts, as Donna was more than the sum of her individual parts… That led his gaze to dip lower, to where her legs were, and where the cotton bath towel ended high on her thigh, revealing plenty but promising more…!

“Are you having an asthma attack?” Donna suddenly asked him, bringing him out of his wandering thoughts. “You don’t sound right.”

“Not quite that,” he answered weakly. Good grief! How would he own up to what he had just considered? It didn’t bear thinking about… No, not ‘bear’… Bare…. And flesh! Lots of bare flesh!

“In that case, get me out of here!” she yelled at him, since he was sitting there like a pudding.

That startled him into moving. “Alright! Keep your hair on!” he almost spat at her. Bloody woman not noticing the affect she was having on him, what with all her gorgeous assets on display and…stuff.

“Thank God for that,” she told him, as she clung to his neck and attempted to manoeuvre a leg at a time out of the bath. “Give a girl a hand, Doctor. I’m having a bit of stage trouble here.”

“Stage trouble?” he queried, as his breathing started going haywire again.

“Trouble with me props!” she clarified.

“Oh I see!” he replied distractedly; and wheezed once more. Skin on skin was so good. Nice good. Too good. Especially now her leg was resting against his, her arms were around his neck, her cheek was by his jaw; and soon he’d be able to press in to her….

“You really don’t sound too good,” she commented with some concern. “Have we caught some sort of alien flu? It would explain my dizziness and your breathing problems.”

Deeply embarrassed, he released his hold on her waist, and she began to sink like a stone. “Doctor!” she yelled out in fear.

Fortunately he swiftly caught her, and hugged her closely to him. “I’ve got you,” he mumbled into her wet hair. He was hiding his face there to prevent him from looking at where her towel had ridden up and exposed more than his fair share of her thighs. Good grief! Even the scent of her normal shampoo was sending him wild. Would this nightmare ever end? This delicious nightmare that was slowly changing into wish fulfilment.

Her soft hands moved on his shoulders as she told him, “I think we need to get you into bed.”

“What?!” His startled reaction caused him to slip on the wet bathroom floor, and he plummeted onto the tiles, taking Donna with him with a cry of shock.

She landed on top of him, in quite a compromising position. “What did you do that for?” she demanded.

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” he snapped back. “It isn’t as though I suddenly thought ‘I know! I’ll get Donna to straddle me so that I can shag her’!”

“You do know that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, don’t you?” she huffed. “This floor is a bit low too. I’m not sure if I can get up from here.”

“Try using your legs. That’s what they were designed for,” he unhelpfully pointed out. Nice legs that were underneath his hands at that moment. All it would take is a gentle touch and he could caress as much flesh as he liked as he drifted up her thigh towards her…

“That was the problem, if you remember. Try engaging your brain for a second,” she refocused him. She reached out for the edge of the bath and tried to lift herself up; but the strain was too much, and she quickly sank back down on him.

Oh my god that was thought provoking! He had clear visions of her moving up and down on him then, bucking wildly with passion as she rode him hard.

She placed a hand on his cheek, and gazed into his eyes with deep concern as she leaned in closer. “Doctor? Are you okay? You’re really worrying me now,” she confessed.

“I erm… I’m a… I’m okay, Donna. I just need to…” He was mumbling and she could hardly hear him.

She pushed herself closer still to his face. “What do you need to do?” she whispered.

‘Take her! Take her now!’ his body screamed at him. He never did like listening to people who shouted orders at him. “Oh Donna, I think I need to get into… into your…”

“Help me up and you can stay with me tonight. Would you like that? Then if anything happens we’ll be able to help each other,” she offered brightly. “You might as well stay.”

YES! “Okay, if you want,” he managed to say nonchalantly. “That makes sense.”

With a great deal of heaving and puffing they managed to extricate themselves from the confines of the tricky floor and headed into the main bedroom. Donna’s legs hadn’t gained much use, but the Doctor had encouraged their recovery by gently massaging them to aid blood flow, he told her. “I might have to massage your whole body,” he told her; though she was worried when it sounded as though he was slightly choking again. Frightened that any refusal might bring on a full-blown asthma attack, she readily agreed; and reasoned that it might be nice and relaxing.

She was instructed to lie face down, and he started with her feet; swirling, pressing and kneading. She really hoped her legs were close to normal again as he continued to massage them. It wasn’t too bad at all, though his breathing wasn’t any better. “You don’t have to do this if you’re not feeling well,” she emphasised with concern. “I don’t want you doing yourself a mischief.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted. Oh so bloody fine! Fine as in really great. He could indulge every sexual fantasy he liked whilst getting off on this and causing her no harm whatsoever.

When he got to her knees, he was letting out little grunts; but she let that go. But when he was making a weird barking sound as he massaged her thighs enough was enough! She turned her body abruptly to tell him to stop for his own safety, and accidentally knocked him onto the bedroom carpet! He lay in a crumpled heap, and she self-consciously scrambled to the side of the bed to look down on him. 

“Are you alright? I’m so sorry! I was worried about you, and I only meant to move a little bit. I didn’t know you were balancing above me and… Hang on! Why were you hovering about like that?” She peered at him over the edge of the mattress with a beady look.

“I was working my way up your body,” he stated. “I was going to do you… your b…. your lower back next,” he stammered.

She eyed him suspiciously for a second. “If you say so... Do you still want to do me?”

His head jerked up. “What? Yes, I’ll carry on. No harm done,” he replied breezily, and clambered up. She resumed her position, but she felt his hands rest on the edge of her towel. “I’m just going to move this out of the way,” he informed her.

Normally she’d be shrieking blue murder by now, but for some strange reason she couldn’t care less, and waved her hand at him as she answered, “Yeah alright. Take it all off.”

All of it?! “Are you sure about _everything_?” he double checked.

“Yes. Just take it all off,” she insisted as she relaxed on the bed covers.

He shrugged his shoulders and removed her towel and his. Well, she _had_ said so!

She let out a happy groan as his fingers daintily worked their way up her spine; so he pressed slightly harder. Ooh this was good! She continued to think that as his hands smoothed up her back and headed towards her shoulders, right up until he lost momentum and his torso briefly made contact with hers. 

Oh! He was naked; very clearly naked as part of him brush against her bottom. The strange thing was, she would have normally made some accusation about his motives, but there was a warm sensation making its way across her skin, an extremely pleasant sensation that reminded her that she had told him to take everything off. ‘Trust him to get the wrong end of the stick,’ she mused. As for her getting the wrong end of the stick, for once she wasn’t worried, not in the slightest. In fact she quite liked the idea of getting a stick…

Was it him, or was she lifting her bottom? Could this be an invite? He decided to have a small experiment to check. He brought his hands down onto her hips, and started to smooth his fingertips towards the front of her thighs. In answer, her legs began to magically open wider; so he pressed his torso against her bottom. To his surprise she didn’t complain at all!

So he let his hands wander upwards, smoothing them across her stomach, gradually progressing further, until eventually he was brushing the underside of her breasts. Still no complaints, but her heartbeats were getting faster.

It’s now or never, he thought, and risked running his hands onto her breasts briefly. She ground her bottom onto his thigh. Oh god! Eagerly, he placed a hand over each breast, swirling his fingertips over her tender flesh, kneading it softly as he assessed its weight. And then he found both nipples with his thumbs. Ooh something new that responded! He found with careful flicks and tweaks he could get them to harden into his touch, the scent of arousal hit his nasal sensors, and a faint wetness was being pushed onto his thigh. She obviously liked that! She liked that a heck of a lot! It made perfect sense to do it some more.

She writhed under his touch. ‘Oh yes!’ she wanted to cry out, and pushed onto his body. “Lift me up,” she begged. “Why can’t I feel you?”

“What do you mean you can’t feel me? Have you lost all nerve endings?” he asked agitatedly.

“I didn’t mean like that, you prawn! I meant that I can’t feel your dick,” she clarified.

“Oh I see! Well, you wouldn’t,” he stated.

Curiosity overtook her, and she turned to face him without thinking of her nudity. “What do you mean I wouldn’t?” she queried. “Haven’t you got one?”

“Of course I’ve got one!” he replied indignantly. “It just doesn’t work the same as human males do.”

“So show me what it does,” she blurted out. “I want to see.”

“I am not some freak show,” he blustered. “I do get aroused, but it’s internally and it has to be encouraged out.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Are you telling me that I have to leave a trail of Mars Bars or something? Seriously?! Please don’t tell me I have to sing to your dick, because I wouldn’t be able to do it for laughing.”

He sighed with exasperation. “No! You don’t have to do any of that; and nor do you have to read it poetry before you ask.”

“Not even some Spike Milligan?” She smirked at him.

He smirked back. “Not even him,” he confirmed.

“So what _do_ I have to do?” she demanded.

He nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “You need to er… encourage me with saliva,” he mumbled.

“You what?! I have to spit on you? Ew! Gross!” she squealed.

“Did I say spit?” he huffed angrily. “It kind of works with how some animals stimulate their newborns… by….” And with that he flicked out his tongue in demonstration.

The action caused a fleeting fantasy to flutter across her mind; one that involved that very tongue on a certain body part. “You want me to lick you?” she asked. It wouldn’t be the first time some bloke had requested it; and she surprised herself by considering giving it a go. “Where exactly do I do that?”

He blushed bright pink, and waved his hand over his lower stomach. “In the right area.”

She gazed and then peered at ‘the right area’. “Oh I think I see now,” she said to herself, and gave it a prod with her fingertip. At least it looked promising, she supposed.

“That’s it!” he cried out; although it wasn’t entirely clear if he did so out of shock, relief, enjoyment, or all of the above.

“Lie down then; let the dog see the rabbit,” she ordered him.

“Do you have to be so…. Ooh yes! That’s it… Nnnnngghh!” he eventually whimpered with delight as she placed her mouth on him and began to lick and suck his flesh. 

What began as a relatively small nodule of skin, slowly expanded like a fancy balloon under her ministrations. In next to no time Donna had a whole mouthful of his erection that looked like but exceeded a normal male. “It’s a bit like a pack-a-mac,” she commented at one point. He would have complained but he was enjoying it too much. “When am I supposed to stop?” she wondered.

“About two minutes ago,” he answered honestly; and got swatted on the arm for his troubles. 

“You could have said!” she retorted.

“You never asked!” he hissed back.

“So….” She trailed a finger along his shaft, and resisted pointing out that it was all her hard work. “What else does it do?”

“Why don’t you try it and see,” he offered seductively.

Wriggling up his body, she asked him, “Are you sure it won’t go bang?”

“I can’t guarantee I won’t, love,” the Doctor said with a saucy eyebrow waggle. 

Donna cautiously lifted herself up, relieved to find her legs felt normal now, and considered her next move. She adjusted herself to straddle his stomach; feeling pretty good about this turn of events now that she thought about it. How strange that she didn’t care now that they were skin to skin, and neither did he… “How come you’ve not gone all emo on me?” she asked him. “This ain’t like you.” 

“I’ve no idea why,” he admitted, and grinned at her in delight. “And I don’t care. How brilliant is that? It’s probably to do with that plant you stomped all over, and I’m trying to analyse the situation, but…” He reached up to gently cradle her face, and brought his own head up to meet her. “.. All I want to do is this…” With that, he pressed his lips onto hers, kissing her softly at first. 

His tongue had started off by tasting, teasing, and smoothing over her tongue in delicious, arousing ways. She allowed him to kiss her passionately whilst changing their position on the bed until she was underneath him. Then he went and added to it by thrusting gently into her mouth, demonstrating quite clearly what he would love to do to her body. 

A part of her was still trying to fight this overwhelming need to shag the living daylights out of him, but she was gradually losing the will to fight and increasingly wanted to ride him good and hard. “Oh God that’s good, Spaceman!” she groaned out when he began to undulate sexily against her body; his gentle but firm presses of demand persuaded yet more groans. 

“Oh Donna!” he answered her cry. “Do you think you could…” And he moved her hand, which had been caressing his back, up onto his neck. “Oh yes! Oh yes!” he stuttered out as her hand smoothed over his nape.

“Seriously? That does _things_ for you?” she quizzed him in wonder.

“Yeeesss,” he replied, obviously experiencing some new ecstasy judging by his blissful expression.

Donna shrugged it off and carried on caressing his neck as they resumed their efforts to enter the snogging Olympics. She moved to accommodate him when she felt him finally pressed against her entrance, and milliseconds later he was inside her. 

He instantly stilled, and cheerfully muttered, “Ooh! That is nice! Bloody hell that is gorgeous!”

The way he then moved within her made Donna readily agree. It was if he was… “Are you vibrating?” she suddenly asked him; although she didn’t exactly want an answer. “Aahhh! Yes! Yes! Yes!” she yelled out. She would have said more, but a spectacular orgasm ripped through her body, leaving her breathless for some seconds. 

“Is it okay to carry on?” he asked anxiously. “Should I stop?”

“Don’t you dare stop!” she managed to spit out as another orgasm beckoned. Her nails dug into his neck, and he bucked wildly.

“I going to… can’t hold… Nnnngghhh!” he stammered for some seconds, and let out a squawk of pleasure as he pumped into her. Her body responded by reeling with yet another orgasm, adding and building on his release, intensifying the joint experience. “That’s the best I’ve ever had. You are bloody marvellous!” he told her with sheer delight and kissed her hungrily. “My beautiful, gorgeous, _sexy_ Donna! I can’t believe I’ve waited this long to do this with you.”

She pulled back to gaze at him in wonder. “You wanted to do this _before_ the plant attack? Are you sure, Doctor?” she asked incredulously.

He briefly kissed her again before answering, “Oh yes! Too many times to count.”

“But… but… I thought…” She groped desperately for the right words to express herself.

“You thought wrong,” he told her; emphasising his point by continuing to caress her body, place small kisses along her jaw, and generally made her feel very desired.

She shook her head in amazement. “We could have been doing this ages ago. How stupid are we?” she pondered.

“Does it matter?” he asked in return. “We’ll certainly be doing this in the future. That’s if you want to, of course.”

She deliberately trailed a fingertip across the back of his neck. “Oh I want to,” she told him huskily as he shivered under her touch.

With a shared smirk they whooped with joy, and then they kissed passionately as their minds filled with plans for many more such moments in the near future. But not necessarily ones filled with flowers like triffids.


End file.
